Forgotten Memories
by NuttersIncorportaed
Summary: Stan still has gaps in his memory and it worries him. Luckily Ford is there to reassure him.


Forgotten Memories

Stan growled in frustration, rubbing his temples as he tried to rid himself of the headache that had been keeping him awake all night. He rolled over and the clock on his bedside cabinet told him it was 4:32am. With a sigh, Stan got up finally giving up on the idea of actually getting some rest for once.

Muttering to himself, Stan put on his glasses, picked up Mabel's scrapbook and headed for the living room. If he wasn't going to sleep, he might as well try to remember some more of his old life before his brother and great niblings woke up.

Some days were better than others. Sometimes he would remember bits and pieces of his life before his mind had been erased. However, other days, no matter what he did his mind stayed frustratingly blank. Everyone was being patient with him and helping as much as they could but that didn't stop the grey haze where memories used to be from driving Stan mad.

Stan was about to sit down in his favourite chair and start looking though the scrapbook again, but at the last moment he changed his mind. He put the scrapbook down and instead took a video off the top of the pile by the TV. Dipper, Mabel and even Soos had helped make the pile. Each video was something they had recorded and Stan was in each one somewhere.

Without even looking at the label, Stan shoved the tape into the machine, turned the volume down low so he wouldn't wake anyone up and pressed play. As he sat down, Stan watched Dipper appear on screen. Mabel's finger and thumb where in front of the camera opening and closing as she blocked and unblocked Dipper's head from view with accompanying sound effects.

" _Hello, I'm Dipper Pines," he said smiling and waving. "The girl trying to crush my head is Mabel."_

" _I'm helping!" Mabel said enthusiastically, waving before going back to 'crushing' Dipper's head._

Stan smiled. He might not remember everything about the twins but he knew they'd meant a lot to him and that hadn't changed.

" _Today on Dipper's Guide To The Unexplained…"_

 _Mabel brought her finger and thumb together again and Dipper's smiled dropped. "Okay, that… that's enough," he said and she finally stopped. Dipper looked back into the camera._

" _Today we investigate anomaly number 23," he held up a piece of cardboard he'd written on, "Grunkle Stan's secret tattoo."_

Stan felt a twinge of pain on his shoulder. The day he'd got the so called tattoo was one of the first things he remembered. There had been pain, a lot of it, but that hadn't mattered to him when Ford was dragged though the portal.

Stan folded his arms and curled in on himself slightly. He regretted not checking what the video was about before putting it in but he wasn't going to turn it off now. He watched as the man he'd once been drew the word Goober on Dipper's forehead, and Stan felt a frown spread across his face. He knew the memory of being burnt was a painful one but his reaction still seemed over the top compared to Dipper's naive curiosity.

" _You're never gonna see it kid," the Stan on the screen told Dipper. He was dripping wet and fully clothed in the shower. "Never. Gonna. See. It."_

" _How long have you been standing there?" Dipper asked, sounding equally scared and curious._

" _Give me that camera!"_

 _Dipper screamed and the video cut to him hiding on the roof later as Stan searched for him._

As the video ended Stan thought he saw something that looked like the corner of some old paper with red paint on it flash across the screen. However, when he rewound the video he couldn't see it.

He turned off the video and sat in silence. Sometimes, he wasn't sure Stanley Pines was worth remembering. From what he could remember, he'd been gruff, angry and untrustworthy. He wasn't sure why the others seemed to care so much or why they had liked him, but they had, so he would continue trying to piece his memory back together.

His mind went back, yet again, to the night he'd been made homeless as a teenager. He went over every detail he could remember: his brother's anger, their father hitting him and throwing him out, but he still couldn't remember the most important detail.

Stan let out a grunt of frustration. He turned in his chair and punched the wall trying to vent some of his anger at his lack of memory. Instead of helping, he was simply rewarded with scraped knuckles and a throbbing hand. He swore in pain and then swore again a few seconds later when Ford came rushing into the room looking worried.

"Stanley! What's wrong?" Stan hated the worry on his face.

"Nothing," he answered shortly. "Go back to bed, Sixer." The nickname still felt weird in his mouth but Ford always seemed happy when he used it.

"What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep so I've been trying to remember stuff. Sorry that I woke you."

"Don't worry about it. I'm a light sleeper," Ford said waving the apology away as if it was nothing. The concerned look hadn't left his face though and he hesitated in the doorway for a moment before coming into the room. "I heard you yell. What's wrong, Stan? You can tell me. I just want to help… we all do."

"Yeah, I know," Stan sighed, "Everyone's been so…" he trailed off.

"Everyone's been so what, Stanley?" Ford took a step closer, unsure if he should be pressing Stan like this.

"Sit down already," Stan snapped. "You look uncomfortable standing there."

Ford sat down on the skull next to Stan's chair. They sat in uncomfortable silence for a while before Stan said, "Everyone's been so nice to me… I just don't remember being the sort of person who deserved that."

"What?" Ford asked genuinely confused. "You were the best, our hero. You were _my_ hero. You were better than I ever was…" he frowned.

"Hey, stop that," Stan told him quickly. "You've been nothing but kind and patent with me. I know it's not been easy for you. I'm trying to remember, I really am. It's just, everyone acts like I'm so sort of hero. You just called me one again but I don't feel like one. One good act doesn't make up for all the crappy stuff I did. It doesn't make me a good person."

"Your mistakes don't make you a bad person either," Ford reassured him. "God knows I've made more than I can count, and a lot of them were the way I treated you."

"I wasn't a nice person though."

"No, you're right," Ford said with a teasing smile. "You were grumpy but only to hide how much you cared. You hated asking for anything but only because you were used to being self-reliant. You were a lying conman which is why the Mystery Shack was always such a success. You were a reckless idiot which is why Dipper and Mabel tell me about the things that you did, like save them from a horde of zombies. You're totally right, I can't see any redeeming qualities there."

Despite himself, Stan laughed.

"Whatever you say, Sixer. I guess I can't have been that bad if even you, the world's biggest jerk, can find something nice to say about me."

Ford actually looked delighted when Stan insulted him.

"There's the Stan I know, smart ass mouth and all. You know there are a lot more people who love you. If you don't believe me, then believe Dipper and Mabel. They're clever children and they adore you. Soos practically worships the ground you walk on. Even Wendy told me you weren't all bad for an old dude."

"High praise indeed," Stan said sarcastically.

"From her it is."

They lapsed into silence again but this time it didn't feel uncomfortable. After a while Ford asked Stan if he wanted to watch some of the videos or go through the scrapbook again. They chose a video and watched Mabel's Guide to Life episode on Fashion. Both of them ended up laughing as they watched Mabel and her friends give Stan a flash makeover.

"You look ridicuous."

"Laugh it up, Pondexter," Stan grinned. "You're just jealous that I can pull off the striped look."

"I thought stripes were supposed to be slimming but there aren't enough stripes in the world to make you look thin."

Stan felt happier as he watched the him in the video tell Mabel her makeover had made him look fabulous and her face lit up with joy. If the kids really liked him, he decided, then Stanley Pines must have been an okay guy.

His mind went back to the blank spot he'd been trying to remember earlier and his face fell. Ford noticed almost immediately.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't remember if it was an accident or not," Stan admitted.

"Whether what was an accident?" Ford asked confused.

"Your project," Stan told him.

" _Ohhh_ ," Ford said comprehension dawning. Before he could say anything else though Stan continued,

"I remember the night Pa threw me out," Stan's eyes were stinging. Damn it! He wasn't going to cry! "I remember how hurt and angry you were; I remember telling you it was an accident but I can't remember if I was telling the truth or not. I can't remember if I ruined your chance to go to your dream school on purpose. How am I supposed to know if I was a good person if I don't even know whether I deliberately ruined your life?!"

Stan was breathing heavily by the time his outburst was over. He rubbed his eyes and wouldn't admit even to himself that they were wet.

"It doesn't matter."

"What?"

"It doesn't matter whether it was on purpose or not," Ford told him firmly. "It took me a long time to realise but it really doesn't matter one way or the other. It was either a stupid moment of idiocy or a genuine accident. You'd never have tried to ruin my life. Besides, none of my mistakes are your fault. The only thing that should bother you about the memory of you getting thrown out is how you managed to forgive me for not trying to stop it from happening."

"I ruined your life."

"You really didn't. I didn't need help with that," Ford said grimacing. "Look Stan, I can't tell you if it was an accident or not. All I can tell you is that it doesn't matter now and it shouldn't have mattered then. Sure, if it was on purpose, I was within my right to sulk about it at the time but I shouldn't have let you get thrown out and I shouldn't have kept it over you for so long. That was my mistake, not yours. I don't blame you."

"You mean it?" Stan asked in a small voice.

"I really do," Ford told him firmly. He got up and wrapped his arms around Stan. "You're my brother and I love you. Something that happened when we were teenagers won't change that."

"Thanks, Sixer," Stan hiccupped. Okay, he admitted to himself, maybe he was crying. Darn allergies.

* * *

 **AN:** This was written as an excuse to have Ford tell Stan it didn't matter whether he broke his project deliberately or not. It ended up longer than I was expecting.


End file.
